


teach me how to say goodbye

by popoyoy11



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Character Death, M/M, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-26
Updated: 2015-12-26
Packaged: 2018-05-09 12:38:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5540261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/popoyoy11/pseuds/popoyoy11
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There is a part of his brain that somehow processes this situation rather comically. It’s as if the universe is screaming a loud fuck you to his face.</p>
            </blockquote>





	teach me how to say goodbye

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt taken from a kinkmeme, I actually forgot how the original prompt sounded but it's something like this: "Spock has Jim and another person hanging from a cliff. He can only save one. What will happen?"

There is a part of his brain that somehow processes this situation rather comically. It’s as if the universe is screaming a loud _fuck you_ to his face. Jim glances up, his hands—both of which are holding tightly to Spock’s right arm—are wet with sweat and blood that is not his.

“Spock,” it’s a breathless word, whispered after too many miles running from their original destination.

“Yes, captain?” and somehow, somehow, Spock sounds perfectly composed, as if he doesn’t have two people dangling from each of his arms from the edge of a cliff.

Jim can see it though, the strain on his First Officer’s arm through his ripped uniform, and the jagged, bleeding, wound that ran the length of it. As strong as Vulcans are, there is no way he can lift two people all at once, not like this.

Kirk glances to his left, where Uhura is unconscious, the unrelenting wind seemingly swaying her left and right, but Jim knows it’s not the wind; it’s the momentum of their fall and Spock catching her wrist just in time. It’s probably dislocated, or broken, or both.

“Can you—can you lift us up?”

They both already know the answer to that question, but Spock tries anyway, and Jim slips a little further down his arm. The Captain sucks in a breath.

“I am afraid it requires both of my hands to move either you or Liteunant Uhura from your current positions.” Spock sounds a little breathless, if they weren’t in this situation, Jim would’ve mocked him for it.

From down here, Jim can hear the natives closing in behind them, their shouts and cries of battle muddling his brain. He looks up again; the ledge which Spock is lying down on is much too small for three people.

There is only one choice to make, and that is clear enough for him.

Jim doesn’t know whether he should laugh or cry right now, but _damn_ if it isn’t anything but cruel. He’d always wished he would go down on duty (preferably with _and_ on his beloved Starship), but like this—in the hands of his First Officer—is just the universe being _mean_.

But what is the universe if not torturing for Jim Kirk.

Love doesn’t—never—graces Jim Tiberius Kirk with its presence. He had an abusive stepdad, for God’s sake, his mom was never around, Sam left him, and he’s never seen his father. Love was a myth, something to be acknowledged but not believed in. But then _Spock_ came into his life with his cleverness and his ability to not only challenge him but challenge everything around him to simply be _better_. Spock who questions his orders and argues him over decisions, Spock who has saved his ass numerous times over the course of their long-term mission, Spock who doesn’t sleep that much, Spock who refuses to go to MedBay as much as Jim does, Spock, Spock, _Spock._

Just in the span of 14 months, the half-Vulcan had become his friend, then his best friend, then _something,_ something in his life that plays too many roles, pulls too many strings, and almost—almost the center of his universe.

Jim likes to think that his life is a bit dramatic, given his history, but dying to save the person you love is icing on the cake.

The best damn icing there is.

Jim draws in a breath, “Spock,” he says, voice shaking over the name. Jim draws another excruciating breath.

“Spock,” he tries again, clearer this time, firmer. Spock looks at him with an unreadable look (damn touch telepaths), mouth set in a firm line, and doesn’t wait for him to explain. He grabs Jim’s arm instead, a bloody hand gripping Jim’s forearm. His action only makes the hold sloppier.

“That is absolutely not an option, Captain.” He grits out. There are a number of things in his voice, and Jim is clever enough now to identify a few of them.

“It’s the only way, Spock,” Jim licks his split lips, and his hands are already moving, one of them prying Spock’s hand off his arm.

“Once you have Uhura up with you, you run. Find a safe spot, and wait until backup arrives, keep your comm on, maybe it’ll regain function once you’re in a specific are. You have to—“

“I am not going to let you fall, Jim.” Spock’s angry now, his breath coming in short puffs, or maybe it’s the exertion, either way, Jim’s made up his mind, and there is no going back.

“Listen—“

“I am listening, Captain. I am merely not following your request considering the fact that—”

“You’re being illogical, Spock! Listen—“

“Logically, it would not—“

“Spock! This is an order!” Jim is shouting now, yelling at the top of his lungs, and he is low enough to pull rank in this situation, if it means that Spock will live to see another day, he’ll raise the dead, destroy planets, and plunder cities. He looks at his First Officer in the eyes, and snaps out his words. “You’re the one who’s always talking odds and possibilities, tell me, what are the chances of all three of us getting out of here alive?”

Spock doesn’t say anything, can’t. His eyes are abysses as Jim stares into them.

 “Is that clear?” Jim bites the words out. He’s all Captain now and no Jim, and a small part of his brain is sorry that his last words to the man he loves are like this.

“I said, is that clear, Commander?” Jim’s voice breaks on the last word, his eyes raking Spock’s face. Jim gulps, once, twice, He thinks of his crew, no his _family_. His crazy, desperate, amazing band of misfits who has found home with him in the starship he captains in less than two years. He thinks of the gold shirt he’s never going to put on again, thinks of the scolding he’ll never get from Bones. He thinks of them all, but mostly he thinks of the chess games with Spock he’ll never play, thinks of the walks together he’ll never take again, thinks of words he’ll never have the chance to say.

He so desperately wants to say it out loud right now. But Jim doesn’t, he will not let his last moments be a burden in his Firs Officer’s consciousness. He. Will. Not.

“Yes, Captain.” Spock’s gaze is piercing, scorching, and damn, _damn_ , touch telepaths.

He’s only holding Jim by his wrist now. And there’s not much time left, not really.

“Take care of my ship, okay?” Jim hates the way his voice quivers, he won’t die being scared, he’s spent all his life challenging death, taunting it. He should welcome it with both arms open, that is the way Captains of Starships go, isn’t it?

“Affirmative, Captain.” Spock’s still staring at him now, and he _wishes_ , oh how much he wishes.

“Spock,” he curses internally when his voice breaks over the name.

Jim closes his eyes and thinks of tomorrow, thinks of how his crew would react, maybe someone will cry for him, maybe not—Chekov would probably, Sulu will stand by the kid while he weeps, Uhura will absolutely hate him for this, _god,_ she’ll cook up a fucking _storm—_ thinks of his mom, Sam, Bones—thinks of Starfleet, admiral Pike, the Enterprise and his newfound family—thinks of Spock, of his hands, the brown of his eyes, lips—the times he’s saved his life, the times Jim’s saved his life, the absolutely dry jokes, the late nights—the love, the _love_ , the bitterness of it all—

He opens his eyes, and smiles at his first and last love.

“Thank you.”

The last thing he sees before he lets go is warm, brown eyes.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Don't forget to comment! Hit me up on tVisit me on my [tumblr](http://p-p-poy.tumblr.com/). Title credits to pissedofsandwich, I did the thing, be proud of me!


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